The one where my cat manages to shame me

I live with a cat.

 

I was going to say ‘I own a cat’, but one can never ‘own’ a feline, especially Deia, so I figured mutual cohabitation would provide a more honest portrait of our relationship. It’s not anything like Marley and Me, though it involves a great deal of tolerance and the occasional mutual niceness.

 

She is not an expensive pet, as she only eats one brand of dry food, interspersed with the random tuna can. In the past six years she has developed the adorable habit of scratching the legs of my dining room chairs. Considering said chairs have been in the house since 1997, and even then were given and not bought, I could care less. However, the six years of scratching have taken a toll on them and pretty soon Deia won’t have anything left to scratch, which might prompt her to move onto my much more cherished futon.

Thusward, I took initiative and bought something for her on Amazon, a highly rated cat scratching post.

It arrived yesterday.

 

My excitement at seeing the post was much greater than my cat’s. She looked at it but carried on business as usual. I let her and the post be for a while, figuring these things take time.

 

In the evening, as I was laying on the futon (which is in very close proximity to Deia’s bed and scratching post due to the miniscule size of my apartment) talking to my boyfriend on the phone, Deia began to assault me (read jump on me from the back of the futon) seeking attention…Attention she should have been showing the post!

 

Me (to the cat, while on the phone with A): Deia! The post cost 20 dollars! We’re in a global repression!

A : Yes, use logic. That will work.

Deia stares at me.

 

I try a new tactic, getting on the floor next to the post and grabbing Deia’s front two paws and showing her physically what she should be doing. (I forgot to mention she is not the brightest crayon in the box. By no means. At times she doesn’t recognize me if I put on a hat or a coat)

 

Deia goes completely passive resistance on me. Where did she learn these Ghandian tactics??? Was she alive in the 60s in a past life? Her nails are completely drawn in so my action do not create the desired effect.

A (via phone): I found an article online: “If you want your cat to start using a scratching post do not force it, cats will resent it and not want to go near the post”

 

Me: Great timing.

 

A: It says to show the cat how to use it and make it look like you are having fun so she will want to do it as well.

 

At this point I go Andrew Lloyd Weber (shoutout to Cats, the title for this blog! Sort of…) running my nails against the carpetlike fabric of the post. Deia continues to stare yet I can tell that as time is passing and my nails are getting more and more filed she is beginning to ponder the post.

 

In the end a small victory was had by me last night. After my demonstration she did look at the post.

 

And then play with the chopstick next to it.

 

Still! She was in close proximity to the post when it happened! VICTORY!

The one where little kids made my day

Though I tried to be relatively fiscally responsible while in London (a.k.a. the most expensive place on the planet!), I did have to try out The London Eye, the giant Ferris Wheel they always show on New Year’s Eve reports from that time zone.

It turned out to be quite like Eagle Eye, only without Shia Lebeouf trying to play a twentysomething. Yes, you do look like someone that could play a foster father to Michelle Monaghan’s kid. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. I meant her actual kid. But I digress.

My interest in Ferris Wheels and Ferris-Wheel-Like-Devices has grown since I found out that the first one EVER was built for the 1893 World’s Fair in my darling City, Chicago. I recommend ‘Devil in the White City’ by Erik Larson btw.

 

Chicago so rarely gets any props in this world that I get excited anytime it’s mentioned for anything, given a rare shoutout it so deserves. Damn you L.A. Damn you!*

 

So anyways, I convince Soonie to get on it with me. She claims a fear of heights, I don’t completely believe her until we get on and she begins to freak out. Thus taking the 30 minute ride from fun to damn funtastic!

 

She huddles in the middle of the ‘eye’ on the bench they have, and clutches onto me and Julian for safety. Every time we make a move to get up we are reprimanded, at which time I start to crack up.

Thankfully there is a mother with two young children in the same ‘eye’. Ages? Dunno, I would say under 8, a boy and a girl. And you know kids at that age.

 

 So curious about the world.

So full of questions.

And wonder.

 

Witness the below exchange, which nearly caused poor Soonie to succumb of fear and me, somewhat cruelly, to almost die of laughter:

Mother: “Stay close to me, don’t go close to the door”

Boy: “Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?”

Mother: “Because it has a sign that says ‘do not lean against door’”

Girl: “Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?”

Mother: Because we are very high up and it’s dangerous.

Boy (a cartoon light bulb has clearly gone up in his head, super excited): “Because we would fall and then they’d have to call an ambulance!”

Girl (excitedly): “Our heads would crack open on the ground!”

Boy (not wanting to be outdone by his sibling, yet maintaining the somewhat eerily happy tone): “We’d be dead!!!”

Both smile.

 

Completely made it worth the 13.20 pounds!

 

*(I’m o.k. with NYC, it took a few years of pretty strong hatred though).

The one where I attended a sporting event out of my own free will

On Saturday morning I was surprised by a last minute invite to a Cubs game. My friend had an extra ticket I wouldn’t have to pay for (sweetness) and it was shaping out to be a beautiful day. Now if I agreed to go I would actually spend time outdoors, versus the much more likely home-bound Saturday, so I agreed.

 

Now a clothing dilemma occurred: what does one wear to a sporting event?

 

At ND I was often called out for some of my unconventional home game apparel choices. As in donning multiple accessories (belts, etc) to liven up “The Shirt”, or having my hair completely curled by a friend before the game (execution time: 1 hour, which could have been spent drinking, in retrospect).

 

But, as I often learn these days, we’re not in college anymore. This is the real world!

 

I was pondering revisiting the outfit I wore to the first Cubs game I attended last summer (I won the tickets for donating blood and my cousin was in town, which explains that attendance): bright blue shirt, white skirt, red necklace and bracelet. Overkill really. Plus, they were playing the Cardinals, so I was confused as to how my red would be interpreted.

I opted to go comfortable, color neutral and weather-appropriate. Satisfied with my choice, I called my boyfriend as I was walking to the bus.

Me: So what do you wear to a baseball game attire? How about a black shirt, grey corduroy skirt and cowboy boots? Is that appropriate?

 

A: Yes, yes it is… In Texas.

 

The state has issues (ahem, Bush), but it sure got them boots right.

The one where I flew Ryanair for the first time ever

Making the most of my very limited vacation days, I decided to make the most of my European Easter getaway. By hitting up another EU country I’ve never visited: England.

 

I hadn’t seen my friend Soonie since she jetted off to the Old Country back in August. And though we had a very limited timeframe to work with (I arrived at noon on Sunday, I was leaving at 7pm on Tuesday) I think we made the most of it.

 

Here is what I was able to discern about the land and its people based on what I was able to observe. Most of my findings were contrary to what I had been told/warned about by others.

 

My impressions on England, and getting there:

 

Let’s begin with getting there. My flight, which was my birthday present to myself, came out to less than $150, which I consider a very reasonable price. I flew Ryanair for the very first time. I had heard horror stories and read rants against the airline on a few blogs.

 

What I heard: Horrible service, someone getting puke in their hair from the seat in front of them which had not been cleaned up from the previous flight (grossness), overweight baggage woes, extra hidden fees, their intent to charge 1 Euro to use the bathroom on the plane, etc.

 

So I was prepared and braced. Not being an EU citizen I was forced to pay about 20 Euro each way to check in at the airport. Thus I was determined to not pay one penny more. Not one penny… And I was victorious my friends!!! It can be done.

 

Firstly I made sure my carry-on baggage (one piece, not the one piece plus personal item that I’m accustomed to flying domestic, but okay Ryanair, I can play your game) was under 10kgs. This was possible only because I was staying 2 nights. Anything more would have had to involve laundry or shopping. But I came in with a very sexy 9.9 kgs at the check in counter. At which point I started to think I was safe. I had my boarding pass, I just had to go through security and get in on the plane. I should be safe to take out my purse from my small suitcase, thus having an un-permitted amount of two items with me, right? WRONG. You see, the Ryanair crew had foreseen such a plan and had a secret second scale halfway to the security checkpoint. Can you believe it?!? Its like they could read the devious minds of the Polish! I was much pleased with myself for not taking out my purse prematurely or putting all the heavy items I was carrying in my pockets (cameras and ipods) back in the suitcase. My second weigh in came in with 9.85 kgs. VICTORY WAS MINE!

 

From that moment I was sailing smooth. Took out my purse on the way to the plane, nabbed an aisle seat (they don’t have seat numbers a la Southwest, which leads to occasional madness) and ate the sandwich I had made in advance. The Ryanair crew passed by at least 10 times selling everything from liquor through food to lottery tickets (?). They didn’t get no money from me!

 

One thing of interest I noticed while landing in London was how incredibly jerky and bumpy the landing was. So on the way back I was prepared. I put my hands up protectively against the seat in front of me right before landing on my return flight. And I was glad for it was the most un-smooth landing EVER. I’m almost certain we skidded, as in the actual plane skidded/jumped on the tarmac. Either way we all jumped in our seats…but survived.

 

Thus, I must admit that I was proud of my travel skills in surviving my first Ryanair experience. We got there on time, the ticket was cheap, I didn’t pay extra. What else do you want? I’m not sure what everyone is bitching about. Do it if you must, its no frills but it gets the job done.

 

Word.